Fun in Sharjah

This happened in Sharjah.

Those of you who stay or have stayed in Sharjah know about the little slips of paper which are inserted through the front door of your apartment with the mobile numbers of housemaids written on them.

One Saturday morning, I decided to try one of those numbers. A young female voice answered the call. She asked for my address and I asked for her rate. She said, "It's 25 dirhams per hour." Now, 25 AED is not a small amount for me, but I decided that it's a reasonable price to pay for an hour of CFNM fun. So the deal was made and Zara told me she would arrive in 30 minutes.

I was really tense and excited and those 30 minutes passed in pleasurable anticipation. As there was no one else in the apartment I was, of course, completely naked.

However, when the doorbell rang, I wrapped a towel around myself and opened the door. Two young Arab girls, dressed in T-shirts and jeans, were waiting in the corridor. Their swarthy complexion, thick lips and curly hair seemed to indicate their East African origin. They were both in their late teens or early twenties, slim and not unattractive. The taller one said, "You asked for house-cleaning?"

"Yes. Are you Zara?"

"Ya."

"But I asked for only one cleaning lady!"

"That's ok. Our rate is still the same. This is my friend, Zenub. She will help me do the cleaning."

"25 dirhams per hour?"

"Ya."

"Ok, then. Please come in."

The two girls came into the living room and stood looking around the place. Zenub asked, "You live alone?"

"Yes. And I like to keep my apartment clean."

The next few minutes were spent explaining the job to be done and showing them the broom and mop. Then, as they started working, I went to my bedroom and took off the towel. My heart was beating very fast (as it is doing even now, as I am writing this post) and I could hardly concentrate on what I was doing. I could hear the girls talking in Arabic between themselves in the living room. I set up the ironing stand, switched on the iron and arranged my shirt on the stand. The corner of the bedroom where I was standing was not directly visible from the living room, but the girls had only to step a few paces along the little passage from the living room to be able to see my bare buttock through the open door.

I finished ironing one shirt (It wasn't a very good job, as you would expect, considering the state I was in!) and opened my wardrobe to hang it up inside. It was then, that I saw Zenub, out of the corner of my eye, going into the bathroom (which had an adjacent door off the passage) to fetch a bucket. I could swear that she had looked into the bedroom, but I couldn't be sure. I took out another shirt and went back to the stand. I was trembling in excitement and my penis was semi-erect.

Zenub, meanwhile had gone back to the kitchen to join Zara. I heard her speak to Zara and then I heard some giggling. I switched off the iron, but continued to act as if I was still busy ironing. I was facing away from the bedroom door, but could 'feel' two pairs of eyes behind me. I was drooling pre-*** by this time.

I had missed that initial reactions of shock on the flashees' faces which exhibitionists, like me, value so much, but I knew I had my 25 dirhams' worth coming soon.

"Hello"

I heard Zara's voice from the kitchen. "Is she calling me?" I wondered.

"Hello, Sir", she called again.

"Yes?" I responded, turning around to face the door. I couldn't see either of the girls, as the kitchen was not visible from where I was standing.

"Do you have some soap?" came Zara's voice.

"Yes, it's in the bathroom", I answered, still working up the courage to move further.

"No, no. Cleaning soap, I mean, soap powder."

"That should be there too."

"Can't find it, sir." This was Zenub's voice.

"This is it", I said to myself, "here I come!" I walked out of the bedroom and into the little passage. The first things I noticed were the wide smiles on the girls' faces. They were standing at the kitchen door, looking directly at my fully erect penis.

I walked right upto them, as I had to enter the kitchen for the soap they wanted. It was below the kitchen sink. They stood leaning on either side of the door, looking down at my flagpole.

"Excuse me", I said, gesturing that I wanted to enter the kitchen.

They moved aside slightly, allowing me just enough space to go in. The smiles on the girls' faces had turned into grins. I turned sideways to move past them and felt Zenub's breasts touch my back. My penis brushed Zara's jeans and left a patch of precum on it. I went to the sink and bent down for the soap, fully aware of the view I was presenting to the girls.

"Here it is", I said holding up the soap, with trembling hands.

"Thank you", Zara said, taking it from me.

I stood in front of them, looking around, as if to check whether they had done a good job. There wasn't much to be done, of course, as I always kept my apartment neat and tidy.

I came out of the kitchen, sideways again, because they were still at the door, although they had moved slightly inside the kitchen. Each of them stood with her hands crossed in front of her crotch. This time I felt Zenub's hands on my penis and Zara's on my buttock. "Did they deliberately place their hands like that?" I wondered.

So there I was, in the living room now - and the girls were in the kitchen. The ice being broken, I thought, there was no point going back to the bedroom. I decided to spend the rest of the hour parading around in the buff in full view of the girls. I could hear them giggling and talking to each other in Arabic.

I switched on the TV and the central air-conditioner and moved across to the corner of the living room where I kept my treadmill. I put on my socks and sports shoes and started walking. The noise of the belt sliding over the rollers brought Zenub out of the kitchen. The moment she saw me she burst out laughing and ran back in. I increased the walking speed and lifted my arms vertically over my head. Zenub came out again, followed by Zara. They stood there, looking at me, both laughing like mad. All pretence of house-cleaning was forgotten now.

However, I continued to act as if there was nothing unusual in a man walking naked, except for his socks and shoes, on a treadmill, ten feet away from two fully clothed women. I realized I had the situation under control. The girls were clearly enjoying the situation; almost as much I was. I still had the massive hard-on and the string of precum was almost touching the treadmill belt.

I used the remote to change the TV channel to Al Jazeera Arabic. They were showing something about Zinedine Zidane. This gave the girls the opportunity they were looking for (as was I) to start a conversation.

"Do you know Arabic?" Zara asked, having controlled her laughter, but still grinning wildly.

"No, but I can understand a few words."

"O, so you have been in Sharjah a long time?"

"Umm, no . . . just about 3 months."

"O"

Then there was some silence, except for the noises of the TV and the treadmill. The girls moved closer to me, one on either side of the treadmill.

"Where are you girls from?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, which country? Sudan?"

"Ya", Zara replied.

"You came to Sharjah alone? To work?"

"Ya."

"So you are not married?"

"No."

"And you, sir? You are married?" this was Zenub.

"No. Do I look like I am married?" I said pointing to my penis.

My stupid joke triggered another bout of giggles.

"Which country you are from?" Zara asked.

I told them and Zenub asked whether people in my country always went naked.

"Ha ha! No, but I like to be naked."

"Always?"

"Well, yes, always in my house."

"But, you are not feeling ashamed?" Zara asked.

"No. Why should I?" This was heaven for me. Being naked, with a huge erection, in front of 2 young women and carrying on a conversation with them -- that too about my nudity.

"Do I look ugly?"

"Not at all!" said Zara. I felt her hand graze my buttock again, very lightly. "That's the second time she has touched me there," I thought, "Does she have something for buttocks?"

"No, sir!" said Zenub, at the same instant.

"Then?" I countered, "What is there to be ashamed about? My ****? My balls? All men have them."

Another silence. The girls were apparently marveling at the irrefutable logic of my last statement. I lifted my arms again above my head. Somehow that made me feel more exposed.

"I have got nothing to hide. In fact, I love to be watched my women."

"So, you are always naked at home? Before your mother also?" Zara wanted to know.

"No, no", I laughed.

"Then what women?"

I thought that they would be offended if I told them that I liked to expose myself to housemaids, so I said, "Young women, who are as pretty as you two."

They giggled and Zenub said, "You are very naughty, sir."

"Look at what you did to my pants!" Zara said, in mock anger pointing to the stain in her crotch.

"O ho! I am sorry."

"What sorry? How can I go out now? What will people think?"

"Well, Zara, it's not that prominent. I don't think anyone will even notice."

"Hmph!" she pouted, very sexily.

"You can do one thing, you can take them off." I said brightly.

"What! And be naked like you?"

"Ha ha! No, what I mean is: you can borrow one of my jeans and leave yours behind. I will wash them and keep them ready for you the next time you are here."

"No, thank you. We don't want to come to your flat again, you naked chap!"

That reminded Zenub that they still had to sweep and mop the bedroom and the passage.

"Oh, sir! We have to go . . . and we haven't finished cleaning."

I looked at my the time on the TV screen. There was still some time left before the hour mark. The girls moved away, giggling and talking between themselves and I concentrated on burning a few more calories. All the exercise, together with the excitement, was beginning to tire me. Also, I was in urgent need of some sexual release. I pondered whether I should call the girls and ask for their help about it.

However, I felt that I had had enough excitement for the day and decided that it would be prudent to wait till next Saturday. "Why, they have even touched me!" I knew from experience that that was something which very rarely happens in the first session with a housemaid. I switched off the treadmill, pulled off my socks and shoes -- I always feel it is much more elegant to be totally starkers during a CFNM session -- and plonked down on the sofa. I surfed the TV channels till I found a raunchy TV show, starring Maurizia Paradiso on a free-to-air Italian channel. As luck would have it, it was a CFNM-themed show where Maurizia and her gang (including one delectably plump pornstar, with enormous breasts) were amusing themselves by pulling down the pants of random people on the streets and fondling their genitals.

I was enjoying the show so much that I almost forgot that I was in a CFNM scenario myself, when I heard some giggling behind me. I turned my head to see Zenub peering around the corner of the passage, looking over my shoulder directly at my crotch.

"Still standing!" she exclaimed loudly.

"What are you saying?" I pretended to be dumb, "I am not . . ."

"I mean that!" she clarified, pointing rudely. And, before I could come up with a wisecrack about gentlemen always knowing how to respect ladies, she ran back laughing to the bedroom.

There was no more disturbance and I continued to watch Maurizia's antics. The show finished exactly as Zara and Zenub completed their cleaning. Although they had mopped the living room already, Zenub did it again. "She simply cannot resist me!" I flattered myself, when she bent down, mop in hand, cleaning the floor between my legs. But I still thought it was too soon to push things further.

"Finished, sir!" they declared finally, standing before me, wiping their hands.

"Finished?"

"Ya."

"Ok," I got up from the sofa to fetch my wallet from the bedroom. "How much will it be?"

"25 dirhams. One hour exact," replied Zara.

"Right," I said, returning with the money, "Here it is."

"O, one more thing!" I turned to Zenub as Zara counted the notes, "Zenub, can you please take the garbage bag out? You can just drop it into the refuge shute."

"Ok sir."

I must admit I was taking a little risk in opening the apartment door fully naked for Zeneb to go out, and then leaving the door open till she returned. But, I reasoned, the refuge shute is just off the lift lobby, on the other end of the corridor. It would hardly take Zenub a minute and the chances of someone coming into the corridor, from where they could see into my apartment, were remote.

"Oh! You are making a mess!" Zara cried out suddenly, and I turned to find her looking at my penis. "And we cleaned everything so nicely!" she moaned.

She was right, of course: I had been dribbling precum continuously, and there was quite a puddle on the floor.

"Oh! Sorry," I said hurriedly. (She had already threatened that she wouldn't come to my apartment again, and I had no way of knowing how serious she was about the threat.)

"It's ok, Zara, let it be," I added, just as Zenub came back to the door.

"You should clean yourself up," said Zara smiling and moving past me to join her friend at the door.

"I'll do that," I promised, "immediately."

"Ya. Ok, bye" she said.

"Bye. Thanks for coming."

"Oh! Thank YOU, sir!" said Zenub, with twinkling eyes.

The girls left, and I cleaned myself up -- as I had promised.